


There Are No Traitors

by Kendas



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:54:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22630585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kendas/pseuds/Kendas
Summary: Something went wrong when the last Horcrux was destroyed because he was supposed to be dead.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Blaise Zabini, Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle, HermioneGranger/Blaise Zabini/Tom Riddle
Kudos: 48





	There Are No Traitors

Beta Credit: Tamlane – who is the most amazing beta/moral support that anyone could ever wish for. And really if it wasn’t for her and I doubt that this would have even been finished let alone posted. And to tell the truth, I'm still really nervous despite all she has said in support.  
Disclaimer: This poor, penniless new home owner has no claim to these characters or this world; she’s just borrowing them and playing with them for fun. (And Blaise is a hell of a lot of fun to submit to play with).  
A.N. This isn’t new, I’m just uploading old stories from my livejournal.

**There Are No Traitors.  
Part One**

He was supposed to be dead.

All the Horcruxes had been destroyed, of that Hermione was certain. They had double checked. Triple checked. The young Voldemort, Tom Riddle, was supposed to be no more. Every last vestige of him wiped out except for the part of his soul still residing within the Dark Lord. Hermione had taken every precaution to make sure that there was no margin of error on that account because, when he and Harry finally met once more, she had to be certain that Harry would win. There could be no more loss of life where those she cared for were concerned. Not like before. Never again like before.

“You have to be overlooking something. Are you sure these calculations are correct? What about this bit?”

“Are you trying to suggest that there is something wrong with my Arithmancy abilities, Zabini? If you’re so good, so knowledgeable, then why don’t yo -”

“Calm down, Granger. Anyone would think that I had insulted you.”

“Oh, and what would you call the inference that I’m not able to check my own work adequately?”

“I didn’t suggest that and neither did Potter. I was merely trying to point out to you that sometimes we can be overconfident in our own work.”

Hermione scowled furiously across the room at the ex-Slytherin and opened her mouth to protest, but Blaise held up his hand to forestall her impending outburst.

“Not that you don’t have ample reason to be overconfident, but just that sometimes it’s best to have an outside perspective.”

“Yes, well that is why you’re here, isn’t it?” Hermione cut in huffily, her arms crossed and her eyes averted. “So maybe you could just stop stating the obvious and get to work,” 

Blaise sucked in a frustrated sigh and continued. “All I was attempting was to query you as to where you thought possible oversights might lie. If you would prefer to continue without my help, I can inform Potter of your unwillingness to co-operate and leave.”

Hermione scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Like Harry would let you.”

“What makes you think he would have a choice? I’m here of my own free will. I can go whenever I like, Granger.”

“Yeah, right! Merlin only knows why Harry seems to trust you. There’s clearly something in this for you, I just haven’t figured out what yet. I mean, since when has any Slytherin done anything out of the goodness of his or her own heart? Your mother and her deceased husbands being a prime example.”

The speed at which he moved at was startling. Before Hermione even had a chance to draw her wand in defence, Blaise crossed the room, pulled her from her chair and pinned her against the wall by her throat.

“I’m going to let that one go, Granger, because I can see that you’re tired and frustrated.” His grip was firm, but he managed, somehow, to still find the freedom to circle his thumb over her jugular. “I know that you’re scared,” he growled, his brown eyes fixed on hers with barely restrained ferocity. “I know that you’re still grieving for Weasley.”

Hermione tried to avert her face, but his grip made it impossible, so instead she closed her eyes against his intense look and his blunt words.

“I know that such a comment wouldn’t usually find its way out of your mouth.” One of his fingers brushed across her bottom lip, dragging it down before releasing it and allowing it to bounce back, his eyes following its progress. “So, just this once, I’ll let that narrow-minded, prejudiced and headstrong comment pass, because I know you’re better than that. But I won’t warn you again, Granger. So curb your tongue, lest it gets curbed for you.”

Blaise released her and stepped away, smoothing down the impeccable Muggle suit he had worn in an effort to be discreet and reining in his temper once more. It was one thing for him to question his mother’s morals, but quite another for someone else to do so. He would not tolerate her talking about his family so.

As soon as she felt him move away Hermione opened her eyes and turned towards the wall, wrapping her arms around herself. “I’m not scared.” She wasn’t. Really. She was a Gryffindor after all, and was her house not famed for its bravery? She was just a little concerned. Just a tad apprehensive about whether or not they would succeed in their fight. A touch troubled, she supposed, about which would be the next one of her friends to die. Maybe a fraction anxious about how much responsibility rested on her shoulders. And there was just a smidgeon of unease about her parents’ safety. But she was not scared. Such an emotion was not in her make up. 

“Of course not,” he sighed, half wishing she would just admit the weakness, but feeling proud of her ability to persist in the façade of strength. And that was the oddest thing; Blaise felt proud of the little Gryffindor witch. 

“You need to rest,” he added after a moment, taking the opportunity to move Hermione away from the distasteful topic she had raised. “Go and order that bizarre sock-clad House-elf to make us some food or something. I’ll start on these.” Blaise rubbed his temple. He needed to be alone, clear his head. His mother’s husbands were a subject with which he had long ago decided he was uncomfortable. His mother was something he did not like to dwell on at all, for that matter, because doing so brought up too many questions.

“There’s nothing wrong with them, you know?”

“What? The elves or your calculations?” Blaise made the quip almost out of habit and without actually contemplating it. There was a detachment to the conversation between them now. Something about it felt almost sterile, Blaise realised, with a slight mourning. They were just going through the motions after the tense confrontation.

Hermione scowled and placed her hands on her hips.

Anticipating the witch’s demeanour without having to glance in her direction Blaise said, “Relax, Granger. I’m sure your work is as perfect as ever. But as I said, it doesn’t hurt…” 

“…to have a second pair of eyes. I know, Zabini. So you and Harry keep insisting. But you won’t find anything. Of that you can be assured,” Hermione finished with determination and turned to leave the room.

The conviction with which she stated her assurance made Blaise quirk his lips. She really could be quite conceited, when it came to her intelligence. It was rather endearing. Blaise wasn’t quite certain he liked the fact that he found her endearing. 

Still, he could not restrain the muttered, “Already have, Granger,” that he made in reply to her statement and retreating form.

~*~

“What about this one?” Blaise asked, moving to the side slightly so Hermione could lean down to see the calculation he was indicating.

“The locket?” Hermione replied, bending down over the desk to study it closer. “I don’t see anything wrong here.”

“Umm. Definitely not,” Blaise muttered quietly, leaning back in his chair to take full advantage of the sight of her arse hovering in front of him. She had a great arse. Something he had noticed back in their fifth year when she had visited the Hog’s Head with her friends. There was definitely something to be said about girls wearing Muggle attire, he thought. Or maybe ‘done’ would be a more accurate choice of words.

“Then why did you point it out? Honestly, Zabini, we don’t have any time to waste,” Hermione grumbled, turning around to confront Blaise.

“Huh.” Blaise looked up at her face, momentarily startled by the removal of her arse, and the abrupt end she had called to his fantasies about spanking it.

“I said, why question me about something that you think is fine? Are you even paying attention? You do realise how important this is?”

She had her hands on her hips as she rattled on about how infuriating he was. How she had been doing fine on her own. Her hair was wild because she had been tugging at it in helpless frustration for the past four hours while Blaise analysed her work. She was the epitome of sexy at that point to Blaise. She was the entire reason why he had been so pleased by Potter’s request and the opportunity to seduce her. Well, one of the reasons.

But how she could ask question after question without allowing more that a two second gap for an answer was beyond Blaise. He was not quite sure how one person could come up with so many questions, especially given her reputation as a know-it-all. Should she not know the answers already? As she moved headlong into another tirade about his inability to organise his notes adequately, Blaise decided that he could not hold back any longer.

Reaching out to take a hold of the edge of the desk, Blaise pulled his chair closer. His hands whipped up as soon as he was near enough and took hold of her hips. He pulled her sharply down into his lap so that she was straddling his thighs. The squeal of surprise which she emitted only added to his excitement and satisfaction.

“Didn’t anyone ever explain to you, Granger, that to hold a discussion with someone you actually have to allow the other participant to speak too?”

“What do you think you are doing, Zabini? Let me go.” She pushed angrily against his chest, scowling at his impertinence.

“Teaching you the art of conversation.” Blaise grinned and pulled her closer, securing his grasp on her waist with one hand so that the other was free to explore the tempting mass of her hair.

“I hate to inform you, but this isn’t a requirement.” She was still looking at him angrily, but as she finished the sentence her teeth began to worry her bottom lip and her gaze darted tellingly between Blaise’s eyes and mouth.

Blaise smirked with satisfaction at her response and the way that her resistance to his grip on her had lessened. Not that he had expected anything else. 

He ran his fingers firmly up the skin on the back of her neck, pushing her head forward slightly when they caught in her curls. “You see, Hermione-” he started to say, tightening his grasp on a clump of hair and dragging her head back to expose her throat, “-conversation is all about give and take. One person, you for example, may ask a question, such as why I was referring to the locket -” Blaise leant in and ran the tip of his tongue up her throat to her chin. “-and the other, me, responds.” 

Hermione shivered in his arms, letting out a whimper that made Blaise growl possessively and drag her even closer. His hand moved from her hip to the small of her back as he pressed her into him.

Without giving her a moment to think about her behaviour, Blaise pulled her down and captured her mouth, brushing his full lips against first her lower one and then the top. He knew he was enjoying her surrender far too much. When her tongue darted out to flick against his, Blaise smiled.

“See? You’re getting the hang of it already. Give and take.”

However, that was all it took to bring Hermione out of her haze. As Blaise moved to nuzzle her neck, pulling her thick mane of hair to one side, Hermione suddenly pushed against his chest, swatting him lightly on his side.

“Don’t play me like some dopey little Hufflepuff, Zabini,” she said, standing up and straightening out her clothes. “We have serious work to do, remember. I’m not here to entertain you.”

Blaise leaned back in his chair, rocking it onto two legs and smirking at her. “Now, now, Granger, don’t deny the fact that I was entertaining you, too. I heard your whimper, and you were just as much an active participant as I.”

“I was not!”

Blaise raised an eyebrow at her statement. 

Hermione just huffed in frustration and crossed her arms. “So is that the only reason you called me over? Some excuse to…” She waved her arms in the air, unable to put the kiss into words.

“Nice to know I have such an effect on you. But, in answer to your question, no! I did have a reason for calling you over. There was an anomaly in your research that differed from the other Horcruxes. I wished to discuss what you knew about it and why you had ignored it. Having you writhe around in my lap was just a pleasant surprise.”

Hermione scowled at him. “I did not writhe!”

“No? Maybe I should buy you a dictionary and you can look up the term, because I fear your definition must be wrong. I’m going to get some coffee. That cup you made earlier was awful. Look at the locket notes again.” Blaise stood and turned towards the door.

“Oh and, Granger, one last thing.” His voice deepened to a purr. He changed direction and prowled back towards Hermione with a definite hint of malice in his gait and in the features of his dark, angled face.

Hermione backed away from him until her hip hit the back of the sofa and she started to tumble backwards over it.

Blaise stopped, catching her hip to steady her and keep her upright. His body was an inch from hers and she could feel the warmth coming off him as he tilted her chin up to his face with the back of his index finger. “I would never ‘play’ with you. Of that you can be sure.”

~*~

“Zabini?” a voice enquired from the doorway.

Blaise looked up from the pile of parchments, suddenly wondering when the room had grown so dark. He had not realised that so much time had passed, but a glance at the clock on the mantle confirmed that it was past three.

“Evening, Potter, or should I say morning.”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d still be awake -”

Blaise raised a finger to his mouth and cut the scruffy-haired boy off, nodding to the sleeping figure on the couch before jerking his head in the direction of the hallway. He was enjoying the peace and quiet of working without Hermione’s incessant questioning. Besides, Blaise added as an afterthought, glancing at her slumbering figure as he closed the door to the study, she needed to sleep. A fact which was all too apparent from the bags under her eyes. It would not do to wake her needlessly.

“How are you getting on?” 

“Better when she’s unconscious,” Blaise quipped, ignoring Harry’s real intent behind the question.

“I meant with our problem.”

“I’m well aware of what you meant, Potter, and I’ll repeat my answer - better when Granger’s unconscious.” Blaise smirked, amused by the look of irritation on Harry’s face. “Fine, if you want to know the truth - slowly. Her calculations…” Blaise shook his head, pausing to rub his hand across the stiff muscles in his neck and shoulders before he continued. “Well, truth be told, I’m a little astounded that she did all that on her own. I knew she was good, but still-” Blaise gave a slow whistle and leaned himself back against the wall.

“But you understand it all, right? You can -”

“I know what I’m doing, Potter. Yes! Just don’t expect it to all be done in just one night.”

Harry nodded. “How’s Hermione?” he asked, pushing his glasses back up his nose, his face softening and his demeanour changing from that of _‘all business’_ to _‘concerned’._

Blaise fingered the cigarette case in his pocket, wondering if a jibe would be considered too below the belt at this point even for him. Sneaking a sly look at Potter’s face while he drew one of the roll ups from the elegant silver box and raised it to his lips, he decided that, in this instance at least, it was.

“She’s as good as can be expected, I guess. Considering everything. She needs to sleep more, eat better food, worry less, but that’s not going to happen until this is all over, is it, Potter?” Feigning a disinterest in the subject that contradicted the bitterness in his reply, Blaise replaced the box in his trouser pocket and cupped his hands around his mouth to light the cigarette. When he caught the other boy staring at him contemplatively, he puffed out a breath of smoke and tossed out a casual, _“What?”_

“Nothing,” Harry replied slowly. “It’s just that you…”

“I what, Potter?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry said, brushing off the question with a roll of his eyes that quelled the previous calculating gleam they had held.

Blaise had not liked that gleam. The golden boy was too well known for being an insightful little bugger.

“So, can I get back to Granger’s notes then? Or are there any more inane subjects that you would like to discuss?”

“Actually, there is. I need a favour.”

“Really?” Blaise drawled, his mouth drawing up in a smirk. “You know that’s going to be extra on top of this little deal, right?”

“Actually, I don’t want the favour from you.”

“Fuck, Potter! Can’t you give the girl a break? She’s only been asleep a couple of hours and you want to wake her up. No wonder she practically passed out on me earlier.”

Harry smiled up at him.

“What? I’m just stating a fact.”

“I think you’re stating more than just one fact, Zabini.” Harry grinned. “Not concerned about her are you?”

Blaise scowled and pushed himself from the wall. “I’m just protecting our deal and my interests. I need her healthy to help me work through this. What’s the favour?”

“I should speak to Hermione about it first.”

“I told you, Granger is asleep.”

“This can’t wait. She’ll understand,” Harry persisted, finding the door handle to the study and turning it.

“Wait!” Blaise quickly stubbed out his cigarette in a nearby antique dish, and moved forward, in between Harry and the door. He studied the shorter boy carefully for a moment through narrowed almond eyes. “Is this something you could trust me with until morning?”

Harry met his gaze, nodding slowly. “You seem to have proven that your interests lie with our success, so yes.”

“If I do this…”

Harry looked away, snorting quietly, the look on his face clearly betraying his thought of _‘Here it comes. Typical Slytherin.’_

“If I do this-” Blaise continued undisturbed by Harry’s scoffing, “- I want you to agree that when, at some point in the future, I ask a favour of you, just one favour mind, you’ll give me your assent without argument.”

“What kind of favour?” Harry asked cautiously.

Blaise smiled. “You know, Potter, you would have made a great Slytherin. Don’t worry. It won’t harm your cause.”

It was a minute or two before Harry answered, and when he did it was a simple curt nod. “I need you to guard Riddle.”

Blaise sucked in a long slow breath. “Why? I thought you had him all locked up at headquarters?”

“There may have been a slight security breach at Grimmauld Place.”

“How slight?”

“Slight enough for me to evacuate it and bring Riddle here. There’s nowhere else now, Zabini. I had to bring him here. Trust me, if I’d had a choice… well, it wouldn’t have been here.”

“My mother?”

“Sent her to Hogwarts with McGonagall. She’s fine.”

Blaise nodded. “We’re still safe here though?”

“Yes,” Harry confirmed.

“And I take it he’s still wearing those magic dampening bracelets of Granger’s?”

“Yes. And he’ll be in a cage too. There would be hardly any risk to either of you.”

“Hardly?” Blaise interrupted, picking up on Harry’s slip in his choice of words. 

But Harry continued to ramble on, ignoring him. “He seems pretty quiet actually, not at all like the one I met. He’s sedated at the moment too. Shouldn’t be awake until tomorrow afternoon thanks the dose Tonks gave him.”

“Fine.” Blaise said slightly hesitantly. “We have a deal, then.” He held out his hand to seal the agreement and Harry took it. “I don’t want her awoken. She never stops talking when she’s awake. I’ll cast a silencing charm and you can bring him through.”

“You want him in the study?”

“Best place. We can keep an eye on him better there.”

“Umm, I guess. Just keep an eye on Hermione for me.”

“Potter is there something you’re not telling me? Because if there is…”

“No! It’s nothing. I’ll just go bring him through.”

“Potter?”

**~*~**

**Part Two**

Blaise had not seen him before. Access to where he had been kept at Grimmauld Place was highly restricted, and no one really talked about him. Blaise had been told simply what he needed to know to help Hermione work out why he existed, and that had not been much. He knew, for example, that after the final Horcrux had been destroyed something had happened and Tom Riddle had appeared. He was not clued in as to how the Order had discovered this fact, or how they had found him.

Blaise circled the cage, his eyes on the figure unconscious within. It was a circuit he had repeated almost once every hour since the prisoner’s arrival.

Harry had said that this Tom was only a year or two their senior. Still, Blaise had expected to see the man whom his friend Theo had described, not the boy before him. And he was beautiful. It was hard to hate someone who looked like that. It was hard to remember that he had been responsible for the death of his friend, his lover. Except he was not responsible, was he? It was the older version of him, the one who had been allowed to grow up, who was responsible. Still, it was all the same, the details were irrelevant. 

Blaise dropped down so that he was sitting on the balls of his feet, one hand between his spread thighs to balance himself on the floor. He watched the sleeping prisoner as he tried to fathom why he was here and how he was possible. He tried to summon up disdain for him. Tried to remember who he was and tried not to notice the similarities in his features to his dead friend. Blaise tried not to imagine him spread naked beneath him.

A yawn broke through the early morning quiet in the room.

“What time is it?”

“Six-fifteen,” Blaise answered without missing a beat.

“What are you doing, Blaise? Why’s… Is that…?”

“Blaise is it now?” Forgetting the boy in the cage, Blaise swivelled around and sauntered across the room to the couch.

Hermione had been starting to sit up, propped on her elbows, but at the wizard’s approach she unconsciously sank back down against the cushions.

“Funny, yesterday in my lap it was Zabini. Something changed, Hermione? Did you have any nice dreams about me that you’d like to share?” With the last question he dropped down onto the edge on the settee, one arm propped against the back of it as he leant over Hermione and sniffed her hair. All trace of his previous melancholy and disquiet was gone, shut back away to be dealt with later. “You’re quite vocal even when you’re asleep.”

“I am not! What’s… what’s he doing here? Zabini! Stop it.” She swatted the wandering hand that was tugging at the hem of her jumper and tried to lever herself upright.

“Blaise? Zabini? Make your mind up. Though I guess either would do were you to call it out as you writhed beneath me while I fuc -”

Hermione coughed loudly and pushed Blaise away from her with an angry glare.

“Don’t act so affronted. I know I turn you on.”

“Whatever gave you that impression? God, you are such a conceited…” Some sort of strangled sound came from Hermione’s throat, causing Blaise to chuckle as he pulled her up from the sofa.

“Thank…” Hermione started to say before he yanked her in close, his hands pinning her arms against her side.

“Maybe it was the way you were rubbing yourself against my cock yesterday,” Blaise purred. “Breakfast?” he added casually, letting go of her arms and strolling from the room as if nothing had happened.

“Why’s he here?” Hermione asked, following him into the kitchen.

“Potter brought him last night. There was a compromise on security at headquarters.”

Hermione sucked in a deep breath, before nervously asking, “Is everyone okay? I mean no one… no one died did they?”

Blaise turned around and regarded her carefully. What he saw was quite a shock. He’d never seen the bossy little know-it-all look so afraid. “They’re all alright,” he said softly. “Potter’s just being careful, that’s all.”

Hermione nodded. “How long is he here for?” 

“Not sure. Potter never said. He could be useful though. Wouldn’t you agree? How does this thing work again?”

Hermione did not answer. Instead she slumped in a chair and chewed her lower lip while pondering what a bad idea Tom Riddle’s presence was, and the dangers of Blaise Zabini’s attentions. 

Blaise was an unknown variable, and Hermione doubted whether she was in a place where she could dally with the appealing ex-Slytherin without getting hurt. Then again, after too many stolen glances at him over the years, she also doubted whether she could resist him and if there would ever be a time when she could come away unscathed from a dalliance with him. So, instead, she set her mind to questioning the potential sincerity of his affections over the past few days. She only succeeded in confusing herself further. 

~*~

“I don’t understand it. Why are the incantations on the locket slightly different to all the other Horcruxes? It doesn’t make sense. There doesn’t seem to be any point.” Blaise had been right in his observation the previous day. There was an anomaly. At the time of making the notes, Hermione had presumed the differences were too slight to matter, but now she was not so sure. Still she voiced her doubts. “He was younger though, when he made the locket Horcrux. It was only the second. Maybe he refined the process with the other ones.”

“Possibly. It’s not like we have the diary to compare it to. Still, I say it’s worth investigating further. It can’t hurt, and it’s the only lead we have right now.”

A groan was emitted from the cage in the corner and both Blaise and Hermione looked up. They had been so engrossed in their calculations that they had almost forgotten about their visitor.

“Looks like our guest is coming around. Maybe you should get him some water. Give me some time alone with him.”

Hermione stood up. “What are you going to do?”

“Not worried about me are you?” Blaise smiled, swivelling his chair and pulling Hermione towards him so that she was standing over him, her legs spread. “I thought I was just another evil Slytherin? Never to be trusted – or maybe that’s why you’re concerned. Hmm?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It was immature. But the last few months…”

“It’s all right, Hermione. I know. Trust me, I know.” Blaise pulled her down into his lap, nestling her head against his shoulder whilst he stroked his hand down her back. He did know. It was all too clear and all far too fresh. He knew exactly what she was going through, but he really did not want to discuss it any further. He doubted the girl in his arms would allow him that luxury.

“Do you… Do you miss him?”

Blaise shifted Hermione slightly on his lap and focussed his attention on the door. It was just like her not to know when to mind her tongue. He moved his hand from her back to her head, pressing it down into his neck just in case she tried to look up at him. He weaved his fingers through her curls and, feigning innocence, asked, “Who?” 

“Theo.” Hermione felt Blaise stiffen beneath her as she said the name. From a distance it would have been a barely noticeable reaction she was certain, but this close and pressed against him, she could feel his muscles as they tensed subtly. Misreading his reaction, she continued. “Don’t play the innocent, either. I know you two were close. I... I saw you together when I was patrolling one night during my last year.” She wanted him to know that their relationship did not bother her. She was not quite confident enough yet to tell him exactly what it did do to her.

It was a moment before Blaise answered. This was not a conversation he wanted to have, especially with her. “Well, you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you? I never took you for a voyeur, Hermione.” There was a bitterness behind the teasing quality of his words that Hermione missed. The moment was ruined, and he wanted out of it. Her sudden admission brought to mind too many images of nights spent secluded away in unused classrooms and secret nooks at Hogwarts. It brought Theo’s pallid face as he lay in his coffin back all too clearly as well. All of which dampened his shock that she both knew and accepted his past relationship.

Blaise could never understand why everyone seemed so eager to discuss grief. It was so much easier to shut it away and deal with it later when you had more time, when it was less raw. Talking about it seemed to him to be akin to picking at a scab; the more you picked, the longer it would take for the wound to heal. He wondered how some people ever managed to move on.

“I’m not a voyeur!”

Blaise raised his eyebrow. “You know, I never realised before I started working with you how much you like to deny things.”

“I do-”

“- not?” Blaise finished with a smirk and an arched eyebrow. “Umm, I can see why I made that mistake.”

“You’re changing the subject.” Hermione scowled at him.

“No, I’m ignoring the subject. There’s a difference.” This, he was more comfortable with. Nice easy banter. No prying questions. Now if he could just distract her long enough to forget her question.

“You’re infuriating!”

Blaise grinned. She was too easy sometimes. “I know, but you like me. Admit it.”

“I’ve had enough.” Hermione huffed. “I’m going to fetch some water.” 

Blaise watched her leave, relieved the conversation had been so easy to bypass. As the door closed behind her, he turned his eyes to meet the two cold ones studying him.

“Afternoon!” Blaise lifted his chair and moved it across the room, placing it down in front of the cage and reclaiming it.

The boy in the cage did not reply, but just continued to watch him carefully.

“Talkative, aren’t you?” 

Tom met Blaise’s eyes, holding them defiantly.

“Won’t work, I’m afraid. Just because your location’s changed, don’t go thinking you’re any less restrained. No magic for you, Mr. Riddle, as long as those cuffs stay in place. There’s only one person who can remove them, but I doubt she will be very open to any pleas you might have.”

“Who are you? You weren’t at the other place. I know her, but not you.”

Blaise regarded him thoughtfully for a moment before moving forward until his nose was almost against the bars of the cage. He let his gaze wander up and down Tom Riddle’s physique before smiling. “Me? I’m just someone who’s going to destroy you.”

“Are you another Mudblood like her?”

“Careful. That _Mudblood_ equalled every one of your marks at Hogwarts and picked apart the enchantments on every one of your Horcruxes too. Almost single handed, I might add.”

Tom grinned and Blaise refused to admit that the effect was rather disarming and caused his trousers to tighten slightly. “Somehow I doubt that.”

“Really? You’ll learn to have more faith in her skills, I promise.”

“I don’t think so. My very presence proves you wrong, and - from what I gathered from your conversation - neither of you has any idea what you missed. Besides, last time I met her I was left quite unimpressed.”

Blaise straightened up. There was something suggestive about that particular comment that made him narrow his eyes. He was sharply reminded of Potter’s comment about being unwilling to bring Tom here. At the time Blaise had thought that it had something to do with his own presence and Potter’s trust in him. But now, well, he was not so sure. “Hmm, well, we’ll see about that.” He was unable to shake the air of disquiet that had settled over him upon Riddle’s words.

“Blaise? I got the beaker of water.”

“I’m not drinking anything she got. You can fetch me something.”

Blaise had turned around to look at Hermione, but at Tom’s spoilt declaration he turned back around and caught the wizard as he eyed him appraisingly up and down. 

Quirking his head and blinking in order to shirk the idea of teaching the arrogant wizard a lesson, Blaise stated with an air of disinterest, “Then you’ll go without.” He turned, took the beaker from Hermione and swallowed a mouthful of the water. “Back to work,” he purred into her ear, his hand on her back as he ushered her towards the desk, away from the frustrating boy in the cage.

**~*~  
Part Three**

Blaise was watching Hermione work. Watching the little crinkle that had formed across her brow as she pondered the problem on the parchment in front of her. He was fascinated with her hands as they turned the pages of the dusty, old volume which they were studying. Fascinated by the idea of how the little things would feel stroking his prick. He was desperately trying to resist the temptation of spreading her out on the desk, lifting her skirt and licking her cunt until she came.

There was only one thing that was holding Blaise back. He was not the only one watching. Someone else was watching him, and not just him. He was watching Hermione too. His face looked restrained, but Blaise was certain he had seen a look of desire wash over his features more than once. His unease from earlier returned.

“I think I’ve found something.”

“Pardon?”

“The locket. I think I’ve found something.” She paused, hesitant to expand on her discovery.

“This is the point where you would usually elaborate on your theory, Hermione.”

Hermione glanced over at the cage.

“Oh, don’t mind me. I’m rather fascinated by your potential little find. I’m sure it will be most amusing,” Tom tossed out from across the room, hunkering down on the floor, his back against the bars and his legs drawn up and spread slightly so that his arms could drape down casually between them as they rested on his knees.

The pose was eerily reminiscent of how Theo used to sit. Blaise could not stop himself from questioning how well those bracelets that Hermione had enchanted worked, because he was sure that the pose was deliberate and that Tom had pulled it from his mind.

“I don’t think it was purely a Horcrux. I think that there was a second purpose attached to locket as well. To all of them, in fact, but particularly so with this one. If you cross reference this extra sequence of runes from the incantations woven into the locket with the passage in this book, then you’ll see that they would not quite fit.”

Blaise studied the page and Hermione’s notes, running his fingers across the lines as he read. “The difference is tiny. How in Merlin’s name did you notice it?”

“Well, I didn’t before,” she replied, her cheeks tingeing red as she ducked her face out of view. “But today… I don’t know. It just sort of jumped out at me. See that rune there? Well, I remembered studying it back at Hogwarts; its purpose is for preservation, not containment like in the Horcrux enchantments. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before really. It seems obvious now.”

Blaise leaned across and kissed her. It was light at first. Purely impulsive. But when her hands came up to grip his shirt in clumps and she pulled him closer, Blaise could not stop himself from deepening it. He pulled her chair closer, lifting her legs up so that they draped over his thighs while he gently sucked Hermione’s tongue into his mouth, twining his own against it.

She was delicious. Everything that he had fantasized about. More than once when Theo had been on his knees blowing him, Blaise had reeled off exactly what he wanted to do to the little Gryffindor witch whom Draco hated so much.

Kissing her was somewhat strangely comforting. Blaise tried to fight against the lull in rational thought that her mouth presented. It was like kissing Theo for the first time. He felt drunk. The feeling she drew from him was somewhat unnerving. 

“Ah-hem!”

Hermione sniggered against his lips. “He sounds like Umbridge.” She snorted, pulling back from Blaise slightly, but still keeping her hands upon his chest. “Remember?”

Blaise looked up and over her shoulder, meeting Tom’s eyes. “Umm. Not swatting me away this time, Hermione?” he tossed the comment out playfully with a casual air, but his eyes were warily fixed on Tom. The caged wizard looked as though he was fighting something. “Decided to stop being in denial?” Even as he spoke it, Blaise was not quite sure to whom the question was directed. He wondered if something had passed before between Hermione and Riddle. It would explain Potter’s hesitancy and Riddle’s comment, but he could not imagine how or why, though he could see it vividly. The image was causing his trousers to tighten in arousal and him to hold Hermione closer as a flare of jealousy sparked in his chest.

“No! Not this time,” Hermione replied quietly. “Blaise? Are you okay? You seem distracted.”

“Huh? Just thinking about something.”

Tom smirked and leered suggestively at Blaise through the bars. His eyes, however, fell on Hermione. Suddenly Blaise had a number of questions and he wanted some answers. He did not appreciate being kept in the dark, particularly in this matter. He was sure Tom was up to something. There had been something too calculating about his comment concerning Hermione the day before.

“Do you think you could go Floo Potter and tell him about your discovery? I said we would keep him up to date.”

“Couldn’t you? I’d like to keep working on this.”

“I think he would appreciate the opportunity to see you, seeing as how he missed you the other night.” Merlin she was stubborn. Why couldn’t she just take the hint? He wanted to talk to Riddle alone.

“Oh, of course. I forgot about that.” Hermione nodded, extricating herself from Blaise’s lap with some reluctance. 

At any other time Blaise would have basked in the victory that her behaviour offered, but he had more pressing concerns. “It won’t work,” he stated calmly as soon as Hermione had left.

“What will not work? I’m afraid your statement perplexes me.”

“The game you are trying to play.” Blaise walked towards the cage, stopping about a foot away from it. “And don’t deny the fact. You are a fool for underestimating your opponents, Riddle. Clearly you made the same mistakes as a child that you did as an adult. You lack subtlety and your forward planning is flawed.”

“I’m not the only one who lacks subtlety.” 

It was an insult worthy only of a Slytherin, Blaise thought, schooling his features to remain indifferent because that comment had cut. He most certainly did not lack subtlety, which was more than could be said for many of his more notorious housemates. 

“You never answered my question about your blood,” Tom continued casually whilst studying his finger nails.

“My answer bears no relevance on this situation nor you. It’s none of your concern.” The answer was sharp and held none of Blaise’s usual restraint, something which he cursed himself for after. In Blaise’s opinion far too much information could be gleamed about a person from their reactions. It was always best, safest, to seem indifferent. Safest to control what others knew about you. His numerous stepfathers had made the mistake of not being guarded enough; Blaise had learnt the lesson of caution well from each of their untimely demises.

Tom smiled.

“Why are you so interested in Hermione? Yesterday, when you talked about her you showed nothing but contempt,” Blaise asked the question carefully, cautious to display only mild interest. 

A flicker in the muscle of Tom’s cheek confirmed the wizard’s distaste for the question, but the smirk that he wore moments later only served to further agitate Blaise. “Why are you interested?” Tom asked, not denying the fact nor confirming it, but instead rebounding the question upon Blaise.

This time it was Blaise’s turn to smile. Tom’s question was clever and Blaise could not help but appreciate the cunning that it demonstrated within the brown-haired boy. Until that query he had wondered how Tom had ever become so powerful, but maybe he was not quite all he seemed. In that moment, Blaise was reminded of himself and he wondered how many layers the young Dark Lord wore. 

Tom’s question had left its intent completely ambiguous. He could have been referring to Blaise’s own interest in Hermione or the reason why he was interested in Tom’s feelings. It was a decidedly sneaky response, because Tom could learn a lot simply from how Blaise interpreted it. Whatever answer he deemed to give would have just been a bonus. But the key phrase here, Blaise thought smugly, was ‘would have’. Tom needed reminding that he was not the only intelligent wizard. Blaise was all too willing to teach him that lesson.

“Because information is key, isn’t it, Riddle? When you hold all the information you hold all the power. Wouldn’t you say so?”

Tom nodded slowly, the smile still caught on his lips from earlier now even more pronounced. It was almost a grin. “Now why in Salazar’s name would I have overlooked you?” He rose to his feet and there was both admiration and curiosity in his voice when he spoke.

“Because you underestimate subtlety in favour of those more vociferous and ostentatious.”

“You see this as a flaw?”

“I see it as a weakness.”

“Yet you favour a bossy little Gryffindor?”

He was being sneaky again. Answering fast, and then dropping in a personal question in the hope of tripping Blaise up. 

“That tactic won’t work with me, Riddle.”

“Clearly not.”

The two wizards stood there for a moment, barely a foot between them as they measured each other up. Both looking for tell-tale insights into the other’s personality. Both inspecting carefully for weakness, something that they could manipulate or take advantage of. Both making certain that they masked every possible revealing gesture which could betray them.

When Hermione walked back into the room, this was how she found them, the air between them practically sparking with tension. Reflexively she swallowed, taken aback by the confrontation and battle of wills seeming to take place before her. She was not certain what had happened to cause the scene in front of her, but she was definitely going to find out. She was also slightly disconcerted to feel a bubble of desire burst in her abdomen as the scene sparked a memory in her head of… She shut off the traitorous thought. 

“Blaise. Harry wants a word with you.”

~*~

“The Floo’s closed. Where’s Potter?” Blaise asked, turning around as Hermione entered the kitchen behind him.

She chose not to answer, instead closing the door to the hall and casting a Zone of Silence on the room’s walls. When she finally turned around to face Blaise, he was looking at her with some irritation.

“Hermione?”

“Sit down!” Her tone brooked no argument and Blaise’s irritation fled. He complied to the demand with only the faintest hint of amusement showing in his face. “I want to talk...”

“What’s new?” he murmured.

“To you. Alone! Coffee?”

“Only if it’s drinkable this time.”

Hermione shot Blaise a scathing look before turning on the kettle. She dropped a teabag in one mug and a heaped spoon of instant coffee in the other.

“That crap’s awful. Can’t we at least get some decent stuff sent over?”

Hermione turned around and took a few steps forward. She placed her hands on the kitchen table as she leaned over, ignoring Blaise’s plea for a question of her own. “What was going on in there?” she demanded.

“Nothing of importance,” Blaise replied, shrugging and leaning back away from her.

“Well, you could have fooled me. You two looked like a couple of stags about to lock antlers.”

“Really, Granger, it was nothing.”

Hermione stepped back slightly at his use of her last name. She had thought that they were past that. When people called her ‘Granger’ it made her feel like a child at Hogwarts again. It reminded her that she was still only nineteen and yet a key player in a historic war. 

Biting back her discomfort, she leaned forward once more and continued her inquisition. “Whatever he did or said, you have to learn to ignore him. He’s just looking for a way in. That’s what he does.” Hermione tried to keep the regret from her voice, but she was not sure that she succeeded. She closed her eyes and bit back on the remembered images that had plagued her too often in the past few weeks. It’s not fair that Harry sent him here. It was not fair that Harry had sent either of them there.

Blaise watched her carefully. There was something in her voice that ate at his unease from earlier. A moment later she had turned away from him, back to the counter and the whistling kettle that was calling for her attention.

Blaise narrowed his eyes and stood up, swiftly moving up behind her. Removing the kettle from her hand, he pinned her between him and the cupboard. “Forget the drinks.” He drew both of her hands above her head and, holding them in one of his, pinned them against another cupboard door. 

Pushing her hair out of the way with his free hand, Blaise lightly nuzzled her neck before grazing the tip of his tongue over the shell of her ear, blowing lightly across the damp trail he had left and causing Hermione to shiver. As a child his Grandpa had often proclaimed that you could catch more flies with honey, and Blaise had always been able to see the sense in that statement. His mother was the definition of that teaching, she lived by that code. Blaise liked the tactic too, though for different reasons; there was less reason for backlash because using honey ensured that the prey was willing and therefore equally at blame.

“Tell me what happened when you found him. The truth now,” he purred insistently, pulling her shirt to the side and dragging it down so that her shoulder was exposed. This was the subject that Potter had always seemed hesitant about. He had always given vague answers. He had also warned against broaching the topic with Hermione, and until now it was something Blaise had heeded, having other plans for the bright witch that he did not want to jeopardise. But now not knowing was no longer an option. The information itself could pose a threat to his plans. It was always best to know what ships were sailing just behind the horizon. Another saying that his Grandpa had been found of saying.

“I… I didn’t know it was him. I’d never seen him before, you see. And well, he’s not what you expect, is he?”

Blaise noted that there was a stutter in her voice as she spoke, but continued with his plan, his fingers rubbing at the muscles in her shoulder while his mouth followed their path in teasing nibbles, eliciting moans from her as they progressed on their journey. “Where did you find him?” He kept his voice low and seductive, calming, moving into a hummed Soothe All Charm, which his Au Pair had taught him as a child, as he finished to aid the freeness with which she spoke.

“We’d just destroyed the last Horcrux,” Hermione began to answer, a breathy quality edging its way into her voice and causing Blaise to preen with satisfaction. “The one that was hidden in the Ravenclaw spell book. We’d done the ritual here, instead of at Grimmauld Place. We thought it would be safer, less interruptions. I added some anti-magic wards to the ritual circle around us. Just in case. I didn’t want anything to be able to escape this close to Muggles. Even us. It was the last one and it had to go right.”

“What happened?” Blaise unclasped one her hands, bringing it down to his mouth and sucking gently on her fingers, his thumb rubbing circles over her inner wrist.

Hermione shivered in response and pressed back into him as she sighed. “W… when the spell went off to destroy the Horcrux, something went wrong. There was a backlash of a magic and Harry, Ginny and me…” she moaned as his tongue swirled around one of her digits. “We were all knocked out, but the wards I’d erected prior to the ritual meant that until I lowered them, none of us could leave. We were trapped inside the circle. I think I was the first to awake.”

“You think?” Blaise turned her in his arms. The hand that had been pinning her remaining constrained arm, trailed down the inside of the limb, dragging her shirt with it. Blaise admired the smooth pale skin and the way it goose pimpled under the progression of his fingers. He leant in and lightly licked the indentation at the juncture of her elbow. As soon as Voldemort was dead he was going to take her to bed for a month and not let her out of his sight until he’d had his fill. He was not certain he would ever have his fill of her.

“I can’t be sure. Merlin, Blaise! They don’t remember anything, b… but still there is always room for doubt. Maybe he woke Ginny first, I don’t know. Maybe she was more resistant.”

Blaise could only presume that when she said ‘he’, she was referring to Riddle. That was interesting. He had not realised he had materialised at the scene of the Horcrux’s destruction. “Resistant to what?” 

Hermione buried her head in the curve of his shoulder and mewled against his shirt, her warm breath seeping through the expensive cotton to his skin.

Blaise had the distinct impression that she was only half conscious of what was happening. He was surprised as he had expected more of a struggle from her. She was certainly capable of it and he was not vain enough to put her runaway mouth completely down to his obvious talents. Clearly she wanted to get this off her chest – or perhaps she was just too tired to fight him. Whatever the answer was, maybe it made palming her breast and teasing her nipple through her shirt and bra not entirely necessary, but it was not unnecessary either. It stopped the progression of her momentary hesitation at any rate.

“To him,” she continued, squeaking as his fingers pulled at her taut nipple. “W… When I woke up he was holding me. Asking me questions. Everything was hazy because there were all these images running through my mind, clouding my perception. I didn’t recognise him. Didn’t realise how odd his holding me was. Didn’t question his mouth or… or his… his hands.”

She was blushing furiously. Blaise could feel the heat of her cheeks against his neck and something wet seeping onto his skin. He was startled to realise that she was crying and he rubbed her back while that fact sank in. 

“I couldn’t help but answer him. Couldn’t help but do as he wished. I didn’t mean to. And then it was all too late, because then he knew how to get to me. Knew everything about the war too. Knew my fantasies.” Hermione’s face snapped up to Blaise’s, her eyes earnest and bright. She had to make him understand how dangerous he was. “And now that’s what he’s doing to you. He’s looking for a way in, and he already has enough clues to make a good start. I can’t understand why Harry brought him here. He knows how dangerous it is. That’s why he’s kept us away from him before.” 

Blaise pulled back and studied her carefully, suspiciously. One comment alone had sunk into his brain, all else since that had faded and blurred. “What does he already know? What did you tell him?”

“I didn’t tell him. I told you. He took it from me. From my memories, my mind. I… couldn’t stop him.”

Her voice was full of apologies and Hermione’s eyes seemed to be begging Blaise for his forgiveness. He instantly remembered her question from earlier that day.

“Theo! He knows about Theo. Well that explains earl…” Something was nagging at Blaise. How would Riddle know that Theo was important from one overlooked encounter? “Hermione?”

She looked up at him sheepishly and Blaise had his answer.

“How many times did you watch us?”

“I’m sorry. I would never have tol -”

“How many?” Blaise pressed in a growl, his grip tightening on her.

“Several,” she admitted, then added in a whisper, “at least.”

No wonder she had been so antagonised by his voyeur jibe. The knowledge she had watched them more than once was too much. Blaise shook his head and stepped away from her. Too many times as he had thrust into Theo’s arse or mouth he had fantasised about having the two of them together in his bed. And now that he had discovered just how close she had been while he was having those fantasies, the possibility of making them come true had been torn away from him. She had to have sought them out. They had never been that careless with their rendezvous points for her to have stumbled upon them by accident more than once. She had to have thought about it too. Him and Theo together. Maybe her in the middle… Blaise emitted a low growl and fought the urge to just lift her onto the work surface and fuck her. Just the thought of her watching them had him harder than he could remember. 

“Blaise? It’s just that you were both so…”

“Don’t!” he commanded, foretelling her reasoning and cutting her off, unable to bear hearing just what she thought he and Theo both were. He held up his hand to keep her at a distance. All thought of the story of Riddle’s reappearance had faded. All Blaise could see, think, hear, even smell was the image of the three of them together. Him fucking Theo while he in turn pounded into Hermione. It was too much. “I need some time alone,” he said in a strangled voice, his teeth gritted and taking two more steps away from the little succubus looking so innocently at him. “I’m going to have a shower.” He turned and moved quickly from the room. 

Fucking her now is not a good idea, he assured himself. He was sure that she would prove far too distracting. She was already distracting enough.

~*~  
Part Four

They were interesting. Intriguing! The wizard in particular was appealing, reminding Tom a lot of himself; all masks and pretences, the truth hidden away behind a cunning and manipulative mind. And the images Tom had seen of him reminded him that he had spent too long secluded from the release that others could offer. Perhaps he should have taken a companion with him into the abyss to amuse himself? 

She, on the other hand, had grabbed his attention for a whole different reason. She was easy to read, in many ways she seemed a typical Gryffindor. But her mind presented an entirely different image. Never had Tom seen anything as neatly ordered, but in such utter chaos. She was a bundle of contradictions and she contradicted too many of his assumptions.

She had potential too. So much talent and all of it just waiting to be moulded. Tom had never thought he would find a Mudblood captivating, but she was like the best game of Wizard’s Chess that he had ever played. She disgusted him, but he could not deny the fact that he was drawn to her nonetheless, though he had tried to repeatedly. Surely there was some mistake about her blood, because a filthy little Mudblood should not taste as sweet as she had.

Tom was not sure how so much luck could have befallen him for the little, bespectacled profit to have brought him here and to these two, but he was certainly going to make the most of his foolishness and the two that fate had chosen to drop into his lap. This was his second chance after all, his back up plan, and despite the slight setback of the location of his appearance, he was not intending to make anything other than a success out of it. His original scheme was clearly doomed, his appearance assured that. It was time to move forward.

The girl walked back into the room, her clothes dishevelled and a telling mark blooming on her neck. Tom was reminded of the fantasies he had intruded upon when he had looked through her mind, his nostrils flaring slightly at the memory of the images.

Tom painted on his most charming smile, the one he had used to seduce the Horcrux information from his old professor Slughorn. The one that never failed.

“I see that you’ve been having fun.”

The girl scowled at him and straightened her clothes before moving back to her desk.

“Tell me, Hermione, how did he take you?”

She ignored him, picking up her pen and running an aggravated hand through her hair.

“On your back across the kitchen table perhaps?”

Her hand quivered for a minute, her quill pausing in its note making, but her mouth stayed closed, her eyes firmly averted. 

Still Tom pressed on, enjoying her discomfort too much. “Maybe he bent you over it instead, hmm? So that he could enjoy the view of your pretty arse, maybe even pretend that you were Theo. Do you think he thought of Theo while he was inside you?” Tom paused, quietly assessing her. “Did you?”

She growled, low, almost inaudible. Tom practically grinned, the urge to clap his hands at her reaction was nearly unbearably strong.

“Did you straddle him as he sat beneath you, his hand on your hips as he fucked you? Did he tease you like I did? Or…umm, yes! Your lips do look a little swollen. Did he press you down onto your knees in front of him and screw your bossy little mou -”

Tom never got to finish because Hermione was on her feet, he wand raised and pointed at him and a spell on her lips.

“Respiro Laboris.” She spat the incantation and Tom felt the breath leave his lungs, leaving him momentarily winded.

“Stay out of my head, Riddle!”

“But my dear,” Tom wheezed, raising his wrists and sliding back his shirt’s cuffs, “your little gifts prevent me getting into your delightful little brain -” he let his gaze drop and roll over her, “ - or anywhere else for that matter, including that companion of yours.”

It was this comment that proved her undoing, for she forgot all precaution and strode towards the cage, clasping the bars within tightly clenched fists as she hissed. “And why exactly would you want to get anywhere else with a Mudblood, Riddle? You’ve made your beliefs on my kind abundantly clear.”

Umm captivating, but also predictably hot-headed. Typical Gryffindor. Tom’s hands were quick, closing on her forearms and pulling Hermione sharply against the cage, causing her cleavage to spill appealingly as the bars pressed and flattened her breasts.

Tom grinned up at her from beneath dark eyelashes, leaning forward. “You’re different. Special! Perhaps I’m willing to admit I was wrong in some of my assumptions.”

“Don’t play me for an idiot, Riddle. I’m not one.”

“Hmm, your lover suggested something similar earlier. But maybe after my years separated from society my objectives have changed.”

“I doubt that,” Hermione bit out. “I highly doubt that.”

“Can’t people change? 

“Yes, of course, but I…”

“Are all Slytherins evil?”

When she answered, the exasperation in her voice was clear. “Of course not, but we are not talking about all Slytherins.” 

“Then why not give me a chance like the one you have given Blaise? The one you wanted to give his lover?” Tom’s voice was a purr, Blaise’s name a twisted taunt on his lips. He leant forward in an attempt to nuzzle his nose against Hermione’s. “I could take Theo’s place you know.”

She pulled back suddenly, her mouth open, and for a minute Tom thought she might bite him. “You have no concept of how people work, do you? Empathy is a barren concept to you.” Hermione was astounded that he had dared suggest such a thing. “You are nothing like Blaise,” she ground out.

“Only because you choose not to see the similarities. We are a lot alike underneath I think. I could help you both with your work.”

“You would hinder us.”

“I could explain what I did.”

“You would lie.”

“I could…”

“Stop it!” Hermione wrenched her arms free and stepped back, then moved further back, watching Tom the whole time as if he was a fragile potion experiment; unstable and likely to explode at any moment. “Silencio!” She took a deep breath. “I’ve warned you once, Riddle. Stay out of my head! I’m well aware of the fact that there are other ways that are almost as good as Legilimency.”

~*~

Closing his eyes, Blaise braced himself against the wall of the shower with both his hands, letting the hot water run soothingly down over his back. His nerves were on edge. Both Riddle and Hermione were proving to be a large source of stress and he was regretting the deal he had made with Potter regardless of the benefits he stood to gain from it. Too many memories and thoughts that Blaise had buried and labelled ‘deal with later’ were being dragged to the surface. He could not stand having to think about Theo this much. In the year since his death, Blaise had never allowed himself to think about him as much as he had been forced to in the past few days.

He did not like it. It was not on his terms and it was not his way of dealing with things. He felt fraught and under pressure. Too much pressure! Too much temptation!

He needed something to help him cool down. To help him settle back down into his usual persona. Something to siphon off a little of the anxiety he was feeling. Something he had denied himself since his arrival – well except for the other night when she was asleep.

What he needed was a wank.

He leant his forehead against the cool tiles of the shower. Keeping one hand braced he dropped the other down to his cock, smoothing the palm across his chest, down his sternum to his abdomen before wrapping it firmly around his erection. He sighed out at the sensation of his fingers, and moved his fist up from the base of his prick in one smooth, tugging stroke, his thumb brushing over his frenulum and drawing a groan. 

He moved his other hand down to cup his balls and started to build up a slow, steady, practised rhythm.

As his hand sped up, Blaise did not think of the way Theo had felt during their last fuck. He did not imagine Hermione on her back on the kitchen table, calling out her release from under him. He did not imagine the possibilities that could have happened had he and Theo caught the little voyeur watching them. And he definitely did not think about Riddle on his knees sucking him off.

No! Instead Blaise focussed on the feel of his hand and the orgasm building in his balls. When he came, his head and back arched and the shower still soothingly hot, he thought about how much better he would feel now. How much more himself. Relaxed, focussed, with his façade of indifference ready to fall back into place. He did not think about how he wished that it had not been his hand that had made him come, but a tight arse, a pretty mouth or a warm cunt. 

No! Instead he turned the shower off, dressed and headed back to the study, ready to face what awaited him there.

**~*~**

**Part 5**

They were working again. Diligently heads down. Earlier, perplexed by his silence, Blaise had made a comment to Hermione, a light joke about her gagging Riddle while he was upstairs. Ducking her head further into her notes, Hermione had muttered ‘Silencing Charm’ in lieu of an answer, and Blaise had been slightly taken aback when he realised that she was serious. He wondered what Riddle had said to make her react so. His gaze darted across to contemplate their prisoner and ward.

As Blaise mused on that thought he found his conversation in the kitchen with Hermione coming back to him.

“Didn’t question his mouth or… or his… his hands.”

The sentence hung in Blaise’s mind, flashing neon. He had not paid it much mind at the time, but now… His narrowed eyes moved quickly between the two other occupants of the room. Hermione was studiously ignoring Riddle’s presence, while he smiled and licked his lips across the room at her, seemingly satisfied about something.

Riddle suddenly turned and caught Blaise’s gaze. There was a calculating gleam in the two eyes, and Blaise suddenly felt as though he was prey. Blaise did not like that feeling, he was not used to it and he was definitely not willing to put up with it. Whatever Riddle was planning, Blaise was going to stop him. After all, he had a debt to settle, but information was always key, and Blaise intended to have all of it before the end came.

Blaise moved his gaze back to Hermione. 

Before Theo had died, before they had left school, he and Blaise had talked about seducing the golden girl. It had been their plan. First they avoided the Dark Lord’s recruiting drive, then they offered Potter help and won the girl on the sly. She was the right choice, the only sensible choice – uncommonly bright and she would posses an alluring amount of sway when the light side won - Blaise had no doubt that her side would win. But Theodore’s uncle had ruined it all. As Blaise had stood over his friend’s coffin, his mask perfectly in place so that no one could guess just what the boy in the box had meant to him, least of all his mother, he had made three promises. Potter had brought all within his grasp. One had even paid for his position of trust in he Order of the Phoenix; Alberto Nott was rotting away in Azkaban.

Hermione looked up at Blaise and her teeth worried her bottom lip for a moment before she looked away.

Something else from earlier flared in Blaise’s mind, something he had overlooked at the time in favour of the revelations concerning Theo - Potter had kept him and Hermione away from Tom on purpose. Blaise cursed himself for not taking the opportunity earlier to question the witch on that piece of information. It was a foolish oversight that he had not taken more notice of her words at a time when he had her pliable under his hands and mouth. Blaise did not care to dwell on the similarities between his and Tom’s techniques; they were not something he felt comfortable with, but he recognised they were there before dismissing them. There were more pressing concerns on his mind anyway. Why Potter had allowed them to be exposed to Tom now when he had been reluctant in the past? Blaise was sure there was a reason, a plan behind it. He was also even more certain now that he had been right when he said Potter would have made a great Slytherin. Blaise was always a good judge of character because he always took time to study people. Now he just needed to use the knowledge which he had gained over the years, to dissect Potter’s possible reasoning.

Riddle knew about him and Theo, and given the source from which he had acquired that knowledge, it was likely that he knew also of Hermione’s fantasies regarding the two of them. There was no doubt in Blaise’s mind that she had entertained fantasies regarding the two of them. And it was clear from his own behaviour that he entertained thoughts about the girl. Riddle would not have had to look far to realise that. 

Could Potter know too, then? Certainly he suspected Blaise held feelings for his friend. It was known that, in the years since Dumbledore’s death, he had studied both Legilimency and Occlumency. But would he have looked into his friends head? Would he have pried for that knowledge? Had he even needed to, Blaise mused as his conversation with him from the previous night came back in vivid detail?

But what did this information matter? What use was it? Where was the relevance it could pay to Tom’s presence in this house? Blaise could not see it.

The look of restrained desire from earlier flashed over Riddle’s face again as Blaise watched him focus on Hermione, and in that moment Blaise had his answer. He had not thought Potter could be so cunning or shrewd, but he could find no other explanation when this possibility seemed so clear. Potter was using them. He must have tried to look into Tom’s mind. It was only sensible that he should have at least tried. He must have seen something in there that had given him cause to think that they could get to him and end this sooner. Blaise was certain that whatever Potter had seen, it had been the thought behind that look of desire which was playing in the crevices of his features once again.

Blaise stood up and moved behind Hermione’s chair, placing his hands upon her shoulders and rubbing the muscles beneath the skin gently.

“What are you doing?” Hermione’s tone was prissy and slightly anxious and had been ever since Blaise had returned from his shower. He could only suspect that the reason Riddle was silenced and the cause of Hermione’s mardy disposition were synonymous with each other. 

“I want to talk with our visitor,” Blaise replied coolly, letting his hands drop to the chair as he pulled it back away from the desk.

Huffily and jutting her jaw out, Hermione started to rise. “Blaise, I told you…”

“Shh, I know what I’m doing, Hermione.” Blaise moved her forward and slipped into the seat before pulling her down into his lap, her back against his chest. A quick glance up confirmed that Tom’s demeanour had changed. He seemed more alert, and Blaise was certain he was attempting to listen in. “Do you trust me?” he asked in a low whisper against her ear. 

Hermione nodded tentatively and opened her mouth to voice some thought.

Blaise placed his finger against her mouth to shush her. “Good, remember that.”

He kissed her cheek gently, his eyes never leaving the boy in the cage who was eying them with interest. He would finish this tonight, then the boy wonder could defeat the Dark Lord and Blaise could move on. He was still only guessing at what Harry must have seen, but he fancied that it was a good enough guess. 

Things were getting interesting, and Tom was watching keenly. The black boy was up to something, he was just not sure what yet. Tom had the feeling that this could be a turning point in his situation. He wondered which way it would bend. The wizard’s face was hard to read, only once or twice had Tom been able to see past the barriers that the boy kept raised around him. Idly he thought to himself that the little Mudblood was in over her head with him.

The present situation came back to Tom, and he questioned again the motivations behind this little play. Was it plain desire or something more devious that drove him, and how could he use whatever it was? The more time he spent in the cage watching his two guards work, the more he had begun to doubt that this second chance would even be allowed to start. They both seemed so resolute. He suspected the boy’s morals were looser, but there was hate in his eye every time he looked Tom’s way. Even in the moments when Tom had caught a flicker of desire for him in the boy, it had always had hate and loathing on its heels.

Blaise opened the top two buttons of Hermione’s shirt. At some time before his return she must have re-buttoned it and tucked its tails back into her skirt. Now Blaise pulled them out once more and nuzzled the mark he had made earlier on her neck. Hermione stiffened in his arms and Blaise once more leant in and whispered into her ear. “Remember, trust me. I won’t let him see anything.”

Hermione shook her head, and tried to pull away from him. “Blaise? No!”

“Do you want this war to end?” he murmured, his face turned into her hair, to guard against the wizard attempting to eavesdrop.

“Of course I do.”

“Then you’ll indulge me this once. Pretend it’s just you and me.”

She still looked hesitant, the nervous look from a few days earlier was back on her face, but she nodded and cast her eyes to the floor.

“Mr Riddle, we are going to have a little discussion here tonight.” Blaise slipped one hand up inside Hermione’s shirt, smoothing it across her abdomen and drawing her back against him more firmly. With his other hand he retrieved his wand from its holster on his hip and lowered the charm Hermione had placed on Riddle. As he spoke the incantation, his fingers continued to tease the skin and slight swell of her stomach.

Tom remained silent as he waited to see the boy’s plot uncoil.

“How much did you get to see of her before, Riddle?” Blaise purred. “How much did you get to touch before her friends awoke and caught you?” Blaise turned Hermione’s head, catching her eyes for a moment before lowering his mouth to kiss her. He kept his gaze on Tom the whole time, a challenge within his eyes that was almost a taunt. “How long after you found out about her heritage did it take before you found yourself repulsed? How often have you tried to convince yourself that there must be some mistake about her blood? Because how could Muggles produce such a brilliant witch? How could you be attracted to a dirty little Mudblood?” Blaise drew on his own experiences. He had thought all those things when he had lain disgusted with himself after his first wank about her. “How quickly you forget that your own blood is partially dirty too.”

Tom narrowed his eyes, but kept watching. He wanted to sneer at him, to teach him a lesson, because how dare he compare him to a filthy Mudblood? But he was still not entirely certain of Blaise’s intent and he acknowledged that it would be unwise to make a move at this point in the game. Especially when the two of them could prove useful. Were his new rise to succeed where his original attempt had failed, Tom knew that these two could provide him with a distinct advantage. But they were still a distinct threat, as well, and he was not sure he could tame them or fool them for as long and as well as would be needed. And the Mudblood still repulsed him, even more so for the fact that Tom needed her not just to ensure his release, but also to touch, to bend to his will, to allow him the liberties she allowed Blaise. He had missed having control over others even more than he had missed sex. But the best thing about sex, Tom had found, was the power it could commanded.

“Do you remember how soft her skin feels?” Blaise moved a hand and ran it up Hermione’s leg, edging it just below her skirt and hiking the garment up her thighs. “It feels even better, I can assure you, when your touches are welcome and she’s willing and begging for your hand.”

Tom sniffed and tried not to show that the thought of her begging affected him or made his cock twitch and strain against his fly.

Hermione moaned as Blaise’s fingers teased the skin on her inner thigh, coming close but never actually touching her mound. She was glad for the desk which guarded both her and Blaise’s fingers from Tom’s sight. She felt awkward and nervous even though Blaise’s touches were dulling the fear that had first flared when he had first made his intent clear. She had a suspicion of what he was up to, but could not understand why he thought it would work. She felt dirty and embarrassed for being used as a honey trap, but knowing that did not make her any better equipped to resist when it was all too tempting to play along. When it was all too easy to imagine that the boy in the cage was not a junior Dark Lord but a handsome young man as bright and brilliant as the one behind her whose hardening cock was nestling temptingly against her arse. Hermione tried not to wiggle too much against it. But she was too busy making sure she did not allow herself to beg for Blaise’s fingers to move below the hem of her knickers.

“I thought like you once.” Blaise kissed Hermione’s shoulder and slipped his hand beneath the fabric of her bra. Part of him wanted done with this, to forget the plan and carry her upstairs alone. Part of him liked to pretend that this was Theo watching. And part of him wondered what it would be like to fuck Tom. “House prejudices clouded my vision and it was a long time before I stopped feeling ashamed. Did you feel ashamed when you wanked over her, Riddle? Was it just her you wanked about? Can you even admit that she turns you on? I know what you saw in her head, you see? I know how that makes me feel. How did it make you feel?” If anything, the arousal he felt towards Tom disgusted Blaise more than any wank over Hermione ever had.

Tom stood up and moved towards the edge of the cage, craning his head to try and see what Blaise’s hand was doing to the witch below the table to elicit such delicious sounds. He cursed when he realised that the angle made it impossible. 

“You know, I’m sure Potter could be convinced to be a little lenient with you if you were to help us. Because you know that right now you have no chance of ever getting out of that cage.” Blaise did not mention that, as far as he was concerned, Tom was never getting out of that cage. “Then maybe you could feel how good Hermione feels writhing against your cock while I eat her out. How long has it been, Tom? She was always a perfect student; I bet she takes orders perfectly.” Blaise smirked at the look his comment drew from Tom. He was, in some respects, easier to read that a Gryffindor. But Blaise had been able to study him from afar. That was the problem with notoriety; it made it all too easy to gain information. 

Too long. 

Blaise kissed Hermione again. He teasingly he ran his thumb over her knickers as his tongue moved slowly against hers. He was sure he was getting to Tom. He just needed to finish luring him in. “Good girl,” he praised as he pulled back.

“There’s always another day, after all, Tom,” he purred. “Why don’t you just tell us why are you here? How? We could help you. Don’t you want our help? You’re looking rather uncomfortable over there.” Blaise dropped his gaze to Tom’s groin and smiled. “Wouldn’t you like our help - Hermione’s mouth, my arse?” Not that Blaise had any intention of prostrating himself or Hermione to Tom after all he had done.

Tom did not trust him. Certainly he had found himself led to expect such hedonism from the boy, given his demeanour the past few days and how he pawed the girl, but he knew from watching him that there was more to him than just that. There was a scheme behind his offer, Tom was sure, but that could be overcome later. There were ways around such freewill and, were he to gain their trust, he would surely gain his freedom from the little devices around his wrists. It never once entered his mind that it was all a farce. Tom had grown too desperate to heed his common sense. He was too preoccupied with the cock straining in his trousers and the ideas of what he wanted from the witch and wizard.

“The added incantations you detected were for a portal,” Tom answered. The hint of desperation and desire in his voice was purely to aid his act.

There was a gasp from the girl in Blaise’s lap and a mutter of, ‘Of course. Why didn’t I see that?’ Blaise had to fight not to smile at her reaction. For the first time since he had pulled her into his lap, she was struggling to extricate herself and it was all because of the promise of a breakthrough in her studies. Blaise let her go, with a final kiss to the back of her neck and a lingering glance at her behind as she bent over her papers.

“But why a portal, Tom?” Blaise questioned as he prowled towards the cage. He could not let it go yet, not when there was still more to be learned. “Where did it lead?” He reached the bars and stretched a hand through. His fingers fastened on Tom’s belt loops and tugged him forward. He denied to himself the fact that he was going to enjoy this part of the plan almost as much as he had Hermione. This was for Theo, that was all.

“To a place out of time,” Tom replied cagily, not wanting to give them too much information and distracted by the hand sliding over his groin. His eyes dropped to the dark fingers undoing the buttons on his fly. When he looked back up and caught the naked desire on Blaise’s face, he could not help but feel that success would be all too easy. Tom smiled and shifted closer to the bars, arching into the other boy’s touch, whilst the girl bent over her desk drunk on the promise of a breakthrough.

“There were two Horcruxes on the locket. One was protected, encased inside the portal. T… That’s the one you came from right?” Hermione asked, looking up at the cage, faltering momentarily at the sight of Blaise’s hand wrapping around Tom’s erection as he drew it out from within Tom’s trousers. She resisted the urge to dwell further on it, knowing how important this information could be. The war could be over soon. Everything would settle down, and her friends would be a safe as any normal person. It was a heady thought.

Blaise met the brown eyes of the young Dark Lord, disgusted at the gleam of triumph that he caught within them. Not subtle enough by half, he chided, ignoring his own disgust in himself for enjoying touching the boy’s prick and feeling it twitch in response. Blaise reminded himself of his promises and bit down on his tongue, holding back a sneer as he remembered whose cock it was.

“I was never a Horcrux. Just a protected slice of my soul given form and secreted away.”

“For later? Right?” Blaise pressed, stroking his hand up as his other slipped around the boy’s hips and between the cheeks of his arse. “Hermione, the fourth incantation you identified on the locket, cross reference it with the magical signature found in spells used to connect two or more objects. Clever, Riddle. Very clever.”

“Umm, eight pieces? Eight is considered a powerful number too, but not in the wizarding world,” Hermione mused.

“There were only going to be seven. The one in the locket was a decoy and not mine.”

Hermione bit her lip and tried not to think about what Tom’s revelation might mean. She did not want to dwell on whose soul they had destroyed within the locket. She turned to the book case behind her and pulled down a heavy volume, laying it on the table with a thump. Her womb was clenching and her knickers were soaked. It was hard to concentrate with the knowledge that Blaise was wanking Tom Riddle slowly and deliberately just a few feet from where she stood. It did not help that she could hear the sound of his hand moving in a steady slap slap against slick flesh. It helped even less that she could not escape the image of them as it was there, caught in her periphery vision, no matter where she looked. Part of her was jealous; the rest of her was simply aroused and thrumming. 

Blaise heard Hermione begin to leaf through pages and continued his strokes. There was bile rising in his throat and he felt suddenly nervous. He wondered if he would be able to do what he had to. What he had promised Theo he would do. If he could still go through with the plan he had formulated.

“I’ve got it!” Hermione exclaimed excitedly. “You chained the Horcruxes in a link to the portal. When each Horcrux was destroyed it would have severed a tie to the portal and weakened it. It will take me a while to confirm it but…”

Tom grinned, impressed by how quickly her mind worked. A moment later, though, his grin turned to a groan as the finger, which had been slowly circling the entrance to his arse, pushed inside and sought out his prostate.

“Is she right, Tom? Tell Hermione how bright she is for me.” Blaise coaxed. “With the final tie severed, the portal fails, right? And you appear. A back-up plan because the destruction of the Horcruxes means the corporal you is likely to fall?” He was impressed at such forethought. There were still a few questions in his mind, but Hermione was ahead of him.

“You weren’t supposed to materialise at the site of the last Horcrux’s destruction, though. My anti-magic wards must have caused the glitch in that regard. It would be silly to appear where there was clearly someone so hell bent on your destruction.”

Tom refused to acknowledge her intelligence, and instead just smiled as he thrust forward into Blaise’s hand, his own gripping the bars tightly as he imagined the little Mudblood on her knees before him. He could feel his balls drawing up, his climax drawing nearer.

Blaise sped up his movements and leant in towards Tom. “I told you once before that you lack forward planning. It seems I was wrong. Instead, your fault lies with your over-confidence. I was telling Hermione only the other day to be cautious of falling into that habit. You’ve made a lot of enemies in your struggle for power, Riddle. You should have taken more notice of me when I told you who I was.” Blaise pulled back and released Tom’s cock, catching his hands and holding them upon the bars until the wizard’s prick was soft and pale once more. The look in the boy’s eyes as he realised Blaise was going to deny him his release was priceless.

Hermione’s mouth was open when Blaise turned around, her eyes lidded and glazed.

“How long will it take you to confirm everything?” he asked, ignoring the outburst behind him from Tom.

“A day… maybe two to draw up enough evidence to be certain,” Hermione murmured, her eyes flicking between Blaise and the boy glaring daggers in his back. “Blaise?”

“I’ll move your books and notes to the kitchen. You can Floo Potter in the meantime and warn him to prepare.”

“We’re not -”

“No!” Blaise answered firmly, turning Hermione towards the door. He did not want to have to look at Tom any longer. He needed to regain his composure

“But what about what he just -”

“Do you trust him, Hermione? Any more now than you did this morning?”

Hermione bit her lip and shook her head. She did not. Not one bit. Tom was just watching his own back. Still, she could not stop herself from feeling guilty at their trickery.

As if reading her thoughts, Blaise moved and wrapped an arm around her waist. “He underestimated us. I warned him not to. It’s his own fault, not ours. Go Floo Potter, I’ll be through in a moment with your things.”

**~*~**

**Part 6**

“You want to kill him?” Harry looked up at Blaise with amazement as they stood in the hallway once more. Hermione had again been asleep, this time upstairs in her bed. He was not quite sure whether to believe what he was hearing. “This is the request you want me to not argue on?”

Blaise shrugged. “Is it such a big deal, Potter? What were you planning on doing with him?”

“But we don’t need to. Hermione said…”

“I know what she said. I helped her draw those conclusions. Would you rather keep him sequestered away for the rest of his life? There’s always the chance of escape or rescue. Even treachery. He can be very persuasive.” Blaise chose not to admit that he had almost fallen for that charm once or twice. “Can you afford that risk and the rise of another Voldemort?”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t like this. Dumbledore wouldn’t have either. This is what he tried to protect Malfoy from.”

“And look where that got him. We had a deal, Potter. One in which you promised not to argue.”

“Revenge isn’t everything. Have you really thought this through?”

“Yes, and it is! But you should know that already.”

After a pause, Harry nodded. He could not disagree, but he felt the need to add, “It’s not that simple for me though.”

“I have another favour to ask of you, Potter.”

“I thought you said you would only ask for one favour?” Harry thought that he should have expected this from a Slytherin. He wondered what he would ask for this time. At least he was not bound to give it to him. He was going to have to reconcile the guilt within him if Blaise killed Tom. It was not the same as killing Voldemort. He was not sure why, but it just was not.

Blaise lit a cigarette and rolled his lighter over his fingers before he answered. “I fancy that you won’t take much convincing where this request is concerned.”

Harry looked at him with interest. “You want me to leave Hermione behind when I go, don’t you?”

Blaise had inclined his head, his mouth neutral.

Harry half laughed. “I can’t say I haven’t contemplated it. I’ve lost… Well, enough people I’ve cared about have died because of him. I was thinking of dosing Ginny with a sleeping draft so that I wouldn’t have to argue with her about not coming. Do you think you could slip Hermione one too?”

“I’m sure I could find a way.”

“She’ll be furious when she wakes up!”

“I’m aware of that fact. I’m sure I can deal with her.”

“You’re a braver man than me. Have you seen her when she’s mad? She used to scare R…” Harry’s voice dropped. “…Ron something rotten.”

“Maybe I’m just surer of my charms than you, Potter.” 

Harry smiled, closing his thoughts of his best friend away before looking up quickly at Blaise. “You know I’ve got her back, right? I mean if you…”

Blaise nodded his assent. He knew. He expected no less. 

~*~

Tom sat slumped on the floor of his cage. When the study door opened, he did not even bother to look up. He had spent the whole of the night after his encounter with Hermione and Blaise plotting a way around his current situation, but without magic he could just not see a way past their defences and mistrust. If they had not already been aware of who he was he was sure he would have had no trouble manipulating them into a position where they were sympathetic to him, but it seemed they had too much history and Tom cursed himself for not expecting it to be so. It seemed that as open as the brunette witch had been under his invasion of her mind, there were still compartments of her brain which had been tightly sealed from his prying eyes. 

“Stand up,” a cold male voice ordered. 

Blaise looked at the despondent figure in the cage with disdain.

Tom ignored him. He did not see the difference his compliance could make at this point 

The black boy had proved his resoluteness in his attitude to Tom. No help would come from that quarter. His walls were well erected, and Tom had not suspected a thing before the contempt that had flashed in those brown eyes as he held Tom’s hands on the bars. Tom had seen something in the wizard at that moment, something that reminded him of himself when he had looked at his father just before he cast the Killing Curse. The similarity did not do anything to comfort Tom. 

“What did I do, then, that was so much worse than anything else?” Tom asked, for it was clear to him now that Blaise’s hate was formed on a more personal issue than simply Tom’s ambition and route to power. Perhaps he could have found a way out through the girl, but he had not seen hide nor hair of her since she had been banished to the kitchen. Blaise was keeping her well protected from him. Perhaps he suspected she was a weak link. More likely, Tom suspected, he hated the thought of letting him anywhere near her. Funny how he had not noticed the boy’s jealousy before.

“Stop sulking. It doesn’t suit you.” Blaise wanted to face him for this; wanted him as proud and defiant as he had been the other day when they had confronted each other. He wanted, no needed, to know that he deserved this. That it was the right decision. He had called in his favour to Potter for this opportunity, and while it had not always been his original plan to take this part of the Dark Lord’s soul, he had decided when Potter brought him here that it was as good as any. The final blow would never be his, after all. Someone else bore that promise. Fate had placed this opportunity in his lap, and he was not going to be the one to shun such good fortune, no matter what anybody thought of him. He, like Harry, had a debt to settle.

“Go on then. I take it you’re here to make good on your declaration.”

There was something disconcerting about seeing Tom so hopeless and accepting of his fate. Blaise fingered his wand and tried not to reconsider what he was about to do. He brought forth an image of Theo and tried to shut out the look on Tom’s face as he had wrapped his fingers around his cock.

“You killed a boy for no other reason than because he did not wish to join you. You tortured him and killed him and thought nothing of it.”

There had been a slight hitch in Blaise’s voice as he spoke and Tom suddenly clung to it. “I didn’t.”

“Voldemort? You? What’s the difference? I see none.” The lie came out easily. Because Blaise had seen a difference - more than one and more than once. 

“I’ve not had all of the same experiences as him. I haven’t done all the same things.” 

“You’ve still killed. Are you telling me you didn’t plan to kill again? That you’ve changed? Because I wouldn’t believe you.”

Part of Blaise’s last conversation with Harry was reeling in his head.

_“He doesn’t have to die though, does he? Hermione’s proved that his existence is not tied to Voldemort’s.”_

_“You agreed not to argue, Potter. Are we back to this again?”_

_“It taints you, the Killing Curse.”_

_“I have to do this.”_

_“There are other options. You could come with me and -”_

_“You made a deal.”_

_“I could have taught you so much.” Tom was feeling desperate. His apathy had faded and blind panic was setting in. He needed to find away to survive._

_Hermione’s words to Blaise that morning rose unbidden._

_“Blaise, please don’t do this. We can keep him contained.”_

_“And what if he gets out, Hermione? What then?”_

_“He won’t.”_

_“Can you be so sure?”_

_“I’ve been looking into his history. I think… I think Dumbledore failed him. I don’t think this is right.”_

Blaise closed his eyes, raised his wand and cast a spell. 

Tom’s eyes widened in surprise before he hit the floor.

“I’m sorry, Theo.”

“It was the right decision,” Hermione soothed from the doorway, relieved. She had thought for more than a few minutes there that he would go through with his plan. She was not certain she could have handled that. It was why she had begged him so earnestly to reconsider.

“You’re going to say something ridiculously Gryffindorish in a minute like ‘I’m proud of you,’ aren’t you?”

Hermione smiled. 

“Come on, time for a final cup of coffee before we move him and head over to meet Harry and the others.”

“I’ll make it then.” Blaise placed his hand on Hermione’s lower back and guided her from the room. With his free hand, he slipped his wand back into its holster and then fingered the vial in his pocket, assuring himself that it was still there. “Yours hasn’t improved one bit.”

~Finis~


End file.
